


a small dalliance

by MoraMew



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), F/M, fuck boy oikawa, hints of vaguely sadistic oikawa, i guess, i kind of wrote oikawa as a little shit in this but whatever, it's not full on smut but there's enough teasing in there to enjoy, lite hints of bdsm, office parties and hook ups, or at least oikawa thirsting to tie yachi up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 06:51:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16383392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoraMew/pseuds/MoraMew
Summary: How adorable. Oh, she’s so soft and so easily embarrassed, ashamed. What he wouldn’t give to have her in a proper setting, tied down to a bed so he can take his time teasing and tearing her apart so slowly, so carefully.He’ll have to coax her home one night, draw her in and lay her out.“Yachi-san,” Oikawa whispers in her ear, nosing against the soft curl of it before giving a light bite. “I want to fuck you.”





	a small dalliance

**Author's Note:**

> i tried to write this last year for kinktober, but never finished it. it was bugging me sitting in my drafts so i very quickly finished it up as a writing warm-up.

They really shouldn’t be doing this.  
  
Oikawa can’t help himself, though, and just tangles his fingers into silky hair further, nips at her bottom lip and pulls back so he can look at her through hooded eyes. 

She’s flushed and hazy, embarrassed and eager. The way her fingers curl against his chest is so, so nice and the way she looks at him through her long lashes is even better. She’s just so shy and sweet, so small and light. 

He’s always been weak to these bashful sort of sweethearts, these deliciously adorable girls with their bitten lips and hesitant desires. 

So of course he would want her. Of course he’d be hungry for her. 

He’s been dying for a taste of Yachi Hitoka ever since she first walked into his father’s office and applied to be his secretary. 

And he __knows__ that he shouldn’t be doing this with her, but he’s been getting hungrier and hungrier watching her flitter around the office in her smart little outfits and sweet little kitten heels. 

She’s just so professional and proper, demure and innocent. She’s a wide eyed sweetheart with easily reddened cheeks and he just wants to __wreck__ her. 

So what better time or place to do so than at his father’s birthday celebration at the office? 

It was easy to convince her to come with him. A few words murmured to her nice and low, some careful touches to her waist, her cheek, her chin. He drew her to a quiet corner and brushed his lips over the curl of her ear, whispered and asked if she wanted to come with him. All he needed was a shy nod and he laced his fingers with hers, pulled her away from the crowd and into an empty office. 

And now she’s here on his lap, pink cheeked and breathing quick and shallow, her lips still tasting like champagne and her eyes simmering with unspoken desire. 

Oikawa hums as he runs his gaze over her pretty, pretty face and the carefully made updo that he’s disheveled, the strap of her dress that’s slipped down her shoulder. There’s a small, faded cluster of freckles just underneath her clavicle and he wants to kiss them. 

So he does. 

He presses his lips against hers after he lays adoration to that constellation of freckles and kisses her until she moans, smooths his lips over to the corner of hers and then mouths down to her jawline, her neck. He runs a hand to her chin and cups it firmly, tilts her head to the side to give him more access. A mewl sounds from her when he nips at her neck and she shivers when he sucks on the soft skin of her throat. 

“Ah, __ah__. Oi-Oikawa-san, __please__. No- no marks,” Yachi pleads. 

“Oh, that’s no fun,” he murmurs, nosing up so he can bite at her earlobe. “What? Don’t want my father to see?” 

Yachi squeaks and he laughs, nuzzles against her neck and then gives it a cheeky bite that makes her whine softly in protest. 

“Fine, fine,” he says with a disappointed sigh. “I won’t mark you.” Oikawa feels Yachi relax against him and smiles against her neck. “...at least where he can see.” 

Before she can object, he smooths his lips down her throat and chest, to the soft rise of her small breasts. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling down the silk of her dress and exposing her to him. She inhales so, so sharply when he sinks his teeth into that incredibly soft flesh, presses a hand to her mouth to muffle a whimper when he bites harder, sucks to leave a bruise. 

He wants her to remember this. 

“No need to be so quiet,” Oikawa tells her with a lazy grin, reaching a hand up to pinch at her nipple. 

She blushes behind her hand and Oikawa’s lips curl up more. He grabs her wrist and firmly pulls her hand away from her, leans up and gives her a kiss. 

“Afraid of getting caught?” Oikawa teases, nipping at her bottom lip. 

Her eyes automatically dart to the door and he huffs, grabs her chin and makes her look at him again. 

“I locked it,” he reminds her. “No one is going to come in and if anyone hears us I doubt they’ll think it’s __you__. Everyone knows you’re the office sweetheart. No one would suspect that __you__ would be the one sneaking off to fuck the boss’s son.” 

Yachi flushes absolutely __crimson__ at that and drops her eyes, curls her fingers tighter into his shirt. 

“I...I never- I never agreed to that,” she whispers, a weak denial in her voice. 

Oikawa hums and traces a finger over her flushed cheek, leans closer to her so their lips almost brush. 

“But you __want__ it,” Oikawa says, his voice purposefully low and coaxing. “Why else would you come with me?” 

“I...I-” 

Yachi cuts herself off with a squeak when he runs a hand down her side, over her thighs and slips it underneath her dress. He dances his fingers up high and she blushes so, so beautifully, squirms but doesn’t try to pull away. Oikawa hums when his fingers brush over a thin, lacy strap and he hooks one underneath it, gives it a snap. 

“Garter belt, hmm?” Oikawa asks, giving her a quick kiss. “I have to say...it’s a surprise.” 

“I...Oikawa-san...I…” 

“What is it, Yacchan?” Oikawa whispers against her lips. “You don’t want it?” 

“I...I…” Yachi trembles and pulls her head back from him, swallows and tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth. “I...do. But- But it’s... _ _inappropriate__. I could get __fired__.” 

“Mm, but isn’t that the fun of it? So much __danger__ ,” he purrs. Her face crumples into something that’s nearly a pout and he sighs, brings a hand up to her face to cup it. “It’s __okay__ , Yachi-san. We’re not going to get caught and you won’t be fired. Everyone is drunk and reeling by now and no one is going to be interested in searching for us. It’s alright, Yacchan. I promise.” 

She worries her bottom lip and he watches her and waits as patiently as he can, licks his own lips as he studies how the pearl pink painting her mouth is a little smeared now, messy and pretty in a way that just ever so slightly leans toward pornographic. 

Yachi swallows and her throat moves with it, pale and soft and so tempting. 

He wishes she would let him mark it up. She could always wear a scarf to work. Or a turtleneck. She’d look so quaint in one. 

“I…” Yachi takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, nods and leans into his hand. “O-Okay, Oikawa-san.” 

Oikawa hums happily at the nervous compliance and gives her a kiss, something soft that melds into something deeper, hungrier. She willingly allows him to slip his tongue between her lips and shivers when he licks into her mouth, tastes the edges of her teeth and the roof of her mouth. When he sucks gently on her bottom lip, she whines softly and leans against him more, tugs on his shirt and presses even closer. 

He works his way back down to her breasts and runs his tongue over her nipple, nips another bruise on that soft, creamy flesh and grabs her waist, rolls his hips up against her. 

She surprises him by grinding back against him and giving a quiet moan. 

He wonders if she’s been thinking about him, too. If she’s sneaked her hand down low and touched at herself late at night, teased and fucked herself until she buried her face into her pillows, came with his name on her lips. 

The thought makes him so, so hard and he can’t help moving a hand underneath her the skirt of her dress, dance it up high to brush over her panties. There’s a little wet spot on the crotch and he smiles in satisfaction, noses up to her neck and gives it a nip, a little lick. 

“Yacchan,” he purrs against her throat. “You’re eager, aren’t you? Have you thought about this? About sitting in my lap so pretty and sweet? About me taking you? I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it a __lot__.” 

Oikawa pulls her tight against him and rolls his hips up, cups her face and brings it to him so he can give her a kiss. She whimpers into it and runs her hands up his chest, loops her arms around his neck. There’s just the tiniest strand of spit clinging between them when he pulls his head back and he licks at it, grins when Yachi chases after his lips and initiates another kiss. 

“Mm, you __have__ thought about it, haven’t you?” he teases, nipping at her bottom lip after and grinning at her. Yachi flushes but doesn’t deny or confirm, just lets out a little whine and tries to kiss him again. “So shy, Yacchan. You can tell me.” 

“Oikawa-san,” she mumbles, voice soft and embarrassed and verging on whiny. “ _ _Please…__ ”  
  
“Please what?” Oikawa pushes, dipping his head to nuzzle at her neck. He laves his tongue up the side of it to nibble at her earlobe, almost gets dizzy from the sweet scent of her perfume. “Come on, tell me what you want.”  
  
There’s a whimper from Yachi, something that’s so very close to a little half-sob.  
  
How adorable. Oh, she’s so soft and so easily embarrassed, ashamed. What he wouldn’t give to have her in a proper setting, tied down to a bed so he can take his time teasing and tearing her apart so slowly, so carefully.  
  
He’ll have to coax her home one night, draw her in and lay her out.  
  
“Yachi-san,” Oikawa whispers in her ear, nosing against the soft curl of it before giving a light bite. “I want to fuck you.” 

Yachi shivers in his lap, some soft and shaky noise leaving her. There’s a shallow breath and a nod and Oikawa has to swallow his groan at her consent. 

“Do you want to be bent over the desk?” he asks her, keeping his voice quiet and teasing. He grips her hips and she squirms before pressing back against his hands, her fingers curling tight into his shirt. “Or maybe you want to stay just like this and ride me, hmm?” 

“Oikawa-san!” Yachi gasps, embarrassed and wanting with the way a whine chases after his name. “I- _oh_ \- don’t- don’t tease…” 

Oikawa huffs and pulls his head from her neck, runs his hands up her back and gently cups her face. She flushes despite him thinking she couldn’t _possibly_  turn even more red and Oikawa huffs again, more fond and with a smile. 

“I’m only teasing a _l_ _ittle_ ,” he tells her. A tiny pout falls onto her face and he slips a hand along her jawline, presses his thumb to her bottom lip. “I want you to enjoy this, Yacchan.” 

More flushing and a parting of pretty lips. Oikawa licks his own as he waits and Yachi ducks her head a little, her fingers curling a bit more into his shirt. 

“Ov-Over the desk,” she whispers after a few quiet moment, her voice so quiet he almost doesn’t catch it. “Please?” 

Oikawa _does_  groan this time and he nods, tilting Yachi’s face back up and kissing her lightly. She kisses back, sweet in her need, and Oikawa has to tell himself that he can’t be rough with her despite his desire to have her _wrecked_. 

“Out of my lap then, Yacchan,” he tells her, nipping at her bottom lip. “Lean over the desk and pull your pretty dress up for me.” 

Yachi bites her lip and eyes him, hesitating for just a moment before slipping off of him. Oikawa closes his eyes when she does and takes a breath, gathers up his self-control before he stands as well. When he turns to face the desk, she’s bending over it and Oikawa can’t help licking his lips at the way her hips raise just so into the air. 

“My, aren’t you a treat,” Oikawa murmurs, half to her and half to himself. “If we had more time, I’d have you sit on my face before fucking you.” 

A shocked gasp escapes her at the unashamed words that tumble from his lips and Oikawa watches as her legs tremble to make the skirt of her dress shiver quietly. He reaches out to push it up and Yachi squeaks, pulling away for a moment before relaxing and pressing back toward him again. 

“That’s a good girl,” he tells her, folding her skirt up over her hips. There’s another tremble from her and Oikawa smiles at the way his praise affects her, at the flush still present on her cheeks when she turns her head and peeks at him over her shoulder. “You know, Yacchan, I’d like to see you undressed properly some time.”  
  
She flushes, of course, and she lets out a soft, embarrassed sound before turning her face to hide it away from him. Her hips do rock closer to him, though, and Oikawa’s smiles flickers toward a smirk as he runs his gaze over her small hips, the straps of her garter belt running down her thighs, and the wet spot so clearly seen on her pretty pink panties.  
  
Adorable. She’d probably look like a dream tied up in bed for him, perfect with a hint of red tinting her ass from spanks given.  
  
Oh, he wants to _wreck_  her. He’s much too weak to sweet little things like Yachi Hitoka.  
  
Oikawa takes a deep breath and then reaches out a hand to rest on her hip, dances his fingers over to play with the hem of her panties. Some part of him wants to keep her in them while they fuck and he decides- without a second thought- to indulge that desire. 

“Yacchan,” he says, leaning down so he may whisper in her ear as his fingers stroke over her panties to both tease and allow her a few more moments to relax, “you really are a lovely sight.”  
  
He presses a kiss to her shoulder and she shudders out a breath, some quiet noise leaving on the exhale that makes Oikawa want to groan. She really does make such nice noises and, despite the pleasant taboo of the situation, Oikawa is just getting more and more eager to lay her out properly to see what reactions he can coax from her. 

“Oikawa-san,” Yachi whines, ever so softly. Her fingers curl against the wood of the desk and her hips arch toward him more, quietly needy and- dare he think it- possibly _impatient_.  
  
Oikawa smiles to himself, satisfied in the movement and the moment, and he slips his fingers underneath her panties, pulls that thin and soaked fabric to the side. 

“Want something?” he teases with a hum. He has to close his eyes at the wetness that brushes against his fingers, but still noses against her where he can, presses little kisses against her warm skin.  
  
Yachi starts to mumble something, but it gets lost in a hitched breath when he glides his finger through her folds, strokes over her clit. Oikawa _adores_  that reaction and he _adores_  the tiny, tiny whimper that leaves her, the way she buries her face into her arms as her hips twitch.  
  
He wonders how long it’s been for her. Too long, perhaps. 

“I’ll take care of you,” he murmurs to her, allowing his digits to brush over her for a few more moments before _slowly_  easing a finger into her. It’s becoming a bit too intimate for the quick and dirty fuck he had imagined earlier, but he can allow sweetness and softness for a little bit.  
  
But _only_  for a little bit.  
  
Oikawa enjoys the way she gasps at his finger and the way her back arches, the small pulse of velvet insides. She’s pretty with how her head lolls to the side so he gets a glimpse of parted lips and flushed cheeks, the way her dress slips and slides with her little movements to reveal more skin to him.  
  
He wants it off of her. He wants to see more.  
  
Another time, maybe.  
  
Hopefully.  
  
Oikawa slips a second finger in her and he curls them loosely, licks his lips when she cries out- body shaking and insides squeezing around her digits. It’s a dramatic reaction, but it makes Oikawa _hunger_  and the small bout of intimacy from before evaporates in the face of _l_ _ust_. 

“You need this, don’t you?” Oikawa asks, half teasing as he starts to fuck his fingers into her. “So wet and needy. Who knew the office angel could be so naughty?” 

“ _Oikawa-san!_ ”  
  
The gasp makes Oikawa chuckle- not meanly, but amused- and Yachi whimpers a little when he tries to spread his fingers in her, slide a third one in.  
  
She’s _tight_. 

“Mmm, louder than I thought, too,” Oikawa comments, almost absently. “Should I take these panties off and gag you with them? Or do you want the whole office to hear you?”  
  
She cries out again at that- louder and with a trembling “Oikawa, sir, _please_.” A tiny sob gets tacked onto the end of it and Oikawa has to bite his lip, close his eyes for a moment so he doesn’t lose any self-control. A small growl does escape him, though, and he ends up fucking his fingers into her rougher than he means to.  
  
Fuck, she’s _perfect_  like this. 

“So needy,” he whispers, almost to himself, as he slides his fingers out of her. He leans and moves them to her mouth, taps the tips of them against her lips. Without any more prompting, she takes them into her mouth and Oikawa groans when she whimpers around them. “What a good girl. Can you taste yourself on them?”  
  
Another whimper around his digits. Oikawa doesn’t push for another response and concentrates on getting his cock out instead- fumbling with the button and zipper of his slacks until he can finally push his underwear down and grasp himself, bite his lip as he strokes over his shaft like he’s been aching to.  
  
It’s only when he moves to line himself up that he realizes a flaw in the plan the plan to fuck her and he grimaces before slowly sliding his fingers from her suckling lips. 

“Yacchan,” he tells her, soft and apologetic- he really is; he can’t _believe_  he forgot this. “I don’t have a condom.”  
  
The noise she lets out is both confused and disappointed- maybe even _distressed_ \- and Oikawa blinks at it, the way she squirms and looks back at him with a face covered in both embarrassment and _want_. 

“But,” she starts, cheeks flushed red as brick. “I- I-” Yachi cuts herself off and she looks away, hips moving toward him as she mumbles, “ _please_.” 

_Fuck_.  
  
Oikawa licks his lips and he hesitates. He _hesitates_. He wants to go ahead, but it would be stupid to do so and, god, his cock is twitching in his hand with impatience and, yes, he was the one that drug her away to be fucked at an office party, but there’s hesitation in him.  
  
Hesitation, and then a stroke of impatience followed by a stroke of small genius.  
  
(Well, maybe not genius but at least a push of motivation, inspiration.) 

“Yachi-san,” Oikawa murmurs, reaching his free hand to run fingers down his spine. “How about we take an interlude? How about…we leave this party, go to my place? I have condoms at home and I can _really_  take care of you then.” 

An almost distressed noise leaves her at first, but then she shivers and she curls up a little, squirms before giving a nod.  
  
Oh, how _wonderful_.  
  
Oikawa smiles and steps away, helps her to stand up properly. Her cheeks are flushed with hazy pink and she can’t quite look at him at first, but Yachi accepts his help in righting her dress and allows him to slip a finger under her chin, tilt her head up so he may kiss her. 

“I’ll make my excuses to leave,” Oikawa murmurs, pressing another kiss to her after. “Clean yourself up and say your goodbyes. Come outside to my car and we’ll leave together. And then, when we get to my home, I will fuck you, Yacchan, until you can’t breathe.”  
  
Yachi shivers at that, lashes fluttering to a close, and Oikawa allows himself to grin lazily, kisses her until she moans against his lips, curls a hand into his shirt. She wants to cling when he pulls back and that makes him impatient, makes him want to grab her buy the hand and drag her to the house right then and there without so much as a goodbye to his father or anyone else.  
  
But, he needs to be responsible. Yachi will most certainly fret in the morning and he’ll minimize any distress he can for her before they leave.  
  
Oikawa tucks himself into his pants and licks his lips, eyes Yachi with her mussed up hair and her scarlet cheeks and the quiet want in her half-shut eyes.  
  
She looks like a _dream_. 

“Hurry, Yacchan,” he tells her, turning to leave the room. “I’m impatient to have you in my bed.”  
  
A soft noise from her and Oikawa smiles as he glides out of the room, runs a hand through his hair as he settles into the role of dutiful son that would _never_  disgrace his father by fucking his secretary and causing a scandal at the office party.  
  
With a smirk playing on his lips and head held high, Oikawa saunters into the thick of the party and begins to make his escape.  


* * *

“Oh, Oikawa-kun, are you here for your father?” 

Oikawa pauses on the stairs and sets a smile on a tired looking woman his mind can’t fetch the name of. He nods and raises his bag so she can see, tilts his head and smiles more in the way he knows people find charming. 

“Ah, yes,” he tells her. “I brought him lunch.” 

She nods, looking soft and starry eyed, and Oikawa feels a whip of amusement go off in him.  
  
He knows it’s probably mean, but it can hilarious sometimes the way people _admire_  his little displays.  
  
Especially when he’s just using them to check up on the cute little secretary that fled from his condo with a squeak of “I’m going to be late!”  
  
Oikawa heads into the office and he smiles when he’s greeted almost immediately with the sight of Yachi in a turtleneck, a skirt with tights darker than usual. She’s more casual today and he knows that she’s trying to hide the bruises and marks she had _begged_  him for the night before.  
  
He wonders if she’s embarrassed by them, ashamed. He wonders if it turns her on.  
  
More than likely.  
  
She doesn’t notice him at first. She’s too busy bustling around in the filing cabinet, looking a bit flustered but somehow still more rested than she has in the past few months. It makes Oikawa feel smug, that, and he smirks a little as he walks over, steps behind her desk and stands close. 

“Slow down, Yacchan,” he murmurs to her. “You’re looking so rushed.” 

Yachi startles and she whips her head toward him- eyes wide and pink immediately flourishing on her cheeks. There’s a tiny bruise just under her jawline that her makeup didn’t quite manage to cover and Oikawa grins at that, hides a laugh as she flusters under his gaze. 

“Oi-Oikawa-san,” she squeaks, head ducking. She’s not able to look him in the eye, the poor thing, and he knows he should feel at least a little bit of chagrin but it’s really just _very_  amusing to him. “What- what are you, um- what are you _doing_  here?” 

“Oikawa-san?” he asks quietly, unable to keep from teasing her just a little. “Weren’t you just calling me _sir_  last night?” 

Yachi gasps, almost harsh in her efforts to stay quiet, and Oikawa lets out an undignified snort at it, grins a bit at the red on her cheeks and the way she squirms, bites her bottom lip. 

“I’m sorry, Yacchan,” he tells her. “I couldn’t help myself.” 

Something like a pout works its way onto her face and he takes delight in it, has to hold back from leaning down to kiss her brow and soothe her over. 

“You left too early this morning,” Oikawa murmurs to her. “I didn’t have the chance to thank you for the night before. It was fun, and something I needed. I wanted to make you pancakes this morning.” 

Or, well, try. He’s not the _best_  cook. 

Yachi flushes darker, but the set of her shoulders relaxes and she peeks up at him hesitantly, doesn’t look away until she opens her mouth to speak. 

“I…” 

She trails off and he waits patiently, watches how her little fingers clutch at the hem of her shirt. 

They looked so pretty last night curled around his cock. 

“It…it was nice,” she whispers, still not looking at him. “Good. I- I _needed_  it. Thank…thank you?” 

Oh, that he knew. The desperation in her begging last night had been _very_  obvious.  
  
But, it is still nice to hear that she enjoyed it. That she doesn’t seem to regret. 

“No need to thank me,” he tells her, leaning just a bit closer and dropping his voice lower. “Trust me when I say it was my absolute _pleasure_  to have made you come until you cried.”  
  
A soft noise leaves her and Oikawa pulls back, steps away and places the appropriate amount of space between them. 

“You have my number if you want to do it again,” Oikawa says, nice and casual. “Don’t hesitate to give me a call. I’d love to have you come on my cock again.”  
  
Her eyes widen and her lips part, but Oikawa leaves before she can stammer out a response. He dearly wants to tease her more, but that can wait for another time- for now, though, he heads into his father’s office with a cheery smile and hides away the smirk that wants to spread across his face.  
  
  
  
Later that night, his smirk gets to show when his phone goes off and he sees a text from a certain someone. 

“ _I want to thank you for last night. Can I come over?_ ”  
  
How much courage did she have to work up to send that, he wonders. How flushed is her face right now? How high is her need to dredge up the bravery needed to ask?  
  
Oikawa smirks to himself and he leans back in his chair, revels in the memories of her tastes and her sweet cries as he texts her back. 

“ _Come over, Yacchan. And bring clothes so you’re not rushing in the morning again. I want to fuck you in the shower before you leave for work_ (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧”

**Author's Note:**

> ayyyy. i think i was going to finish this another way when i started it, but it's been over a year and i'm tired and i just wanted it gone and something to post because it's been forever.
> 
> anyway. come say hi and hello on [my (new and exclusively haikyuu) tumblr](https://moramewhq.tumblr.com/)~


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